You’re probably surprised to hear from me. We’ve known each other for 44 years and there is a lot of water under the bridge between us. We don’t talk much anymore and if we do manage to connect some harsh words always seem to to be exchanged. I’m not sure how we got here but I wish we understood each other better and perhaps, even learned to love each other.
I know that you are not the creature of my youth. Gone is the clear supple skin and in its place are stretch marks and pigment loss. You still struggle with acne, but it is so very mild compared to that of your youth, and for that I am extremely grateful. The gentle curves that you sported back then, have become so much more reubenesque, zaftig, and we clash over that constantly. Why, oh why, couldn’t you hold onto that shape??
Despite our differences, I want you to know that I see you. I see your strength, your resilience, your perseverance.
Yes you have it in spades and I guess I never realized it until we had babies. With little or no help from me you expelled children into the world, in record time I might add. Our son(baby #2), you delivered him ALL on your own. I did nothing. I lay there trembling in the aftermath, completely in awe at the strength in you. You had pushed him into this world and shocked even the nurses who delivered him. You are strong beyond words, and in ways I am sure I have yet to learn.
You keep bouncing back from whatever life throws at you. Be it abuse at the hands of a family friend when we were 10 to working 2 jobs simultaneously, both almost full-time, to miscarriage and depression. You kept on and you became more than you were. You overcame, and you did it holding onto God. Though sometimes your grip started to slip, you hung in there. Thank you.
Some may call it stubbornness, but we know better, don’t we? It’s the keeping on, keeping on that you do day in and day out. The getting up, the daily struggles of life mixed with a family of 5 and 2 dogs. The financial struggles. The seemingly never ending list of things that have to get done and that seem to never get done. You’ve struggled, you’ve sweated, you’ve cried; yet through it all you kept going. Sometimes it was only through God’s grace, but you did it. Not perfectly. No. But you did it and are still doing it.
Body Mine, we are entering a new season of life, where “tropical moments” assail us at inopportune times, where our babies are growing up and are poised to take on the world (God help us), and where gravity has worked its magic on us and things are no longer where they once were. Perhaps it’s time to bury the hatchet, so that we can do this thing called aging together with grace, and love. Where we work together to learn to loose weight and exercise to get healthy, before it’s too late. I need you.
Body Mine, I want you to know that I am proud of all that you have overcome; ALL that you have produced, especially the 3 babies that you gave me; and I know that you will continue to surprise me from time to time with what you can and will accomplish.
A prompt/challenge from SheLovesMagazine